


tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Drug Use, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn with Feelings, Recreational Drug Use, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-30 15:04:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13954158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: there are some addictions minhyun can't quit.ong seongwoo is one of them.





	tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catastrophes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophes/gifts).



> happy birthday jo! i really wanted to do something special for your birthday. i'm so sorry this ended up being the prompt i chose to write. ( in my defense it is a lot shorter than any other idea i had. ) i just— thanks for befriending me? your presence has been such a positive influence on my life. i'm eternally floored i am able to call you a friend. i hope this birthday will be a memorable one for you. may you flourish and prosper ❤
> 
> based off [this prompt](https://twitter.com/infede/status/972252717111390208). it barely encapsulates the prompt. i am so so sorry. i know i tagged porn with feelings but is anything i write really porn.

minhyun’s worst decisions are reserved for saturday nights. it begins like this:

minhyun has finally found a position of comfort, lounging in a chair, legs crossed and expression schooled into that of marked disinterest. seongwoo saunters up with another one of his bad ideas. minhyun can almost taste the regret of tomorrow morning, grateful that he has all day to recover, and subsequently forgets about it when seongwoo’s lips curl into the smirk minhyun has gotten far too acquainted with over the years.

wordlessly, seongwoo slides a knee onto the seat until it presses against minhyun’s thigh. it doesn’t matter how much space minhyun takes up. somehow, one way or another, seongwoo manages to find space for himself.

“i was thinking about trying something new,” he says, dulcet tone enough to send a shiver down minhyun’s spine.

without missing a beat, seongwoo swings his other leg, effectively straddling minhyun. seongwoo’s eyes dance with mirth as minhyun readjusts by uncrossing his legs. the glass pipe dangles between seongwoo’s middle and ring finger, already stuffed to the brim, the sleek black speckled with a myriad of colors reminiscent of the milky way. the other hand comes to cup minhyun’s cheek. the lighter in that same hand threatening to dig into minhyun’s skin. he would laugh at the irony of the situation but seongwoo wears that same mischievous grin upon his lips, and moths — those poor creatures — were born to be drawn to flames.

minhyun was seventeen when he first encountered such a look. seventeen, top of his class, and two points away from full marks — still met with a father who said he had expected  _better_. the disappointment dripping from his tone and this time he didn’t even bother to place a hand on minhyun’s shoulder. no. those moments were reserved for faith. his father had none left to spare for a son who wasn’t perfect, who might be the first in three generations unable to graduate from the same prestigious university because he failed to get admitted in the first place.

minhyun was seventeen when seongwoo threw an arm around him, the other hand holding onto his father’s most prized collection, and nudged the liquor in minhyun’s direction. seongwoo whispered about a night of escape, implied a few hours of forgetting, and promised moments of freedom. so minhyun grabbed the bottle by the neck and took a swig of 30 million won. the grin that seongwoo had given him was worth the hangover the next morning.

the summer before minhyun turned twenty, seongwoo used his own tongue to coax minhyun to swallow down a pretty colored pill that had the bass resonate in his blood for the rest of the evening.

on the weekend of seongwoo’s twenty first birthday, he showed minhyun what it was like to have your bones made of water and enjoy the haze of having all your worries rendered to dust.

and now he’s here again: 5 years later. after he had learned to build up tolerance so that no one ever has to see his knuckles turn white from clutching the toilet bowl as he empties his stomach. after he’s learned to wear the façade of perfection like his first skin. after he’s convinced all his friends that they will never see the hwang minhyun drunk. ( except for seongwoo who looks at him from across the room and smiles into the rim of his glass because he  _knows_  and no amount of level headed gazes minhyun returns will ever change that. )

after all these years, all it takes is for seongwoo to look at him like he’s something interesting and minhyun will say  _yes_.

( what minhyun means is   
_anything for you_.  
_as many times as it takes_.  
_as long as it means you’ll stay_. )

“what makes you think i’ll say yes?” minhyun says instead, despite both of them knowing how it’ll end. this little choreographed dance. seongwoo answers with a small chuckle, thumb drawing lazy circles into minhyun’s cheek.

“because your birthday is in the middle of next week,” seongwoo reasons as his lips pull into a pout, “and i vacated all my weekend plans for you, minhyunnie.” as if the preceding conversation hadn’t been about how he’s gotten tired of the new club he began to frequent two weeks ago. how he had nonchalantly dismissed it in the same tone he reserved for remarking his boredom: with yet another new club or his new car or a new game console or the people he dates. how minhyun is just a conveniently timed distraction and something to tie seongwoo over for the weekend before he has to go find something new to do. but, by god, does minhyun want that last phrase to mean something.

minhyun forces his lips to curl into a smirk. “trying to guilt trip me?” brow raised for emphasis. a hand coming to rest on seongwoo’s hip. who knows if he’s already stoned or tipsy, minhyun reasons.

“trying to celebrate your birthday like a friend is obligated to do,” seongwoo retorts. “which brings me back to…” seongwoo trails off as he raises the glass pipe. the same one minhyun has passed between the two of them, back and forth, on weekend nights and the evenings after finals are finished and those days minhyun needs an excuse so that a shoulder would be available when he needed it the most. “have you ever been crossfaded?”

minhyun shakes his head. which elicits a laugh from seongwoo, so hearty it causes a twinge in minhyun’s chest. because of course minhyun hasn’t. seongwoo should know as much. and judging from the way the corner of his eyes soften as his thumb traces the curve of minhyun’s jaw — the satisfied grin tells minhyun all he had wanted to know.

( whether this is an act of possession or wanting all of minhyun’s firsts to be his, minhyun doesn’t mind either way. )

“do you want to try?” seongwoo whispers, voice low. as if minhyun hadn’t made up his mind the moment seongwoo made his way towards him. seongwoo takes the silence as hesitation. more circles traced into skin. “i promise it’ll be the experience of a life time.” 

 _don’t you trust me?_  minhyun hears instead.

“fine,” minhyun says.

the smile that grows on seongwoo’s lips is almost worth it.

seongwoo raises the pipe to his lips, other hand toying with the lighter. it takes two flicks before minhyun witnesses the soft orange glow and the wisp of smoke that attempts to rise before it is sucked in by seongwoo. minhyun expects the pipe to be passed as it usually is, like those evenings spent melding into the leather loveseat or seongwoo’s bed as someone tries to tell netflix that  _yes, they are still watching_. ( like those evenings where minhyun falls asleep with limbs entangled, curling into seongwoo’s side, only to wake up two hours later utterly alone. seongwoo had slipped out to the porch for another round, laughter echoing in the night sky. ) instead, seongwoo leans forward: hands cupping minhyun’s cheeks, head tilting, mouth slotting over minhyun’s as he exhales. and all minhyun can think about is the way they fit before muscle memory kicks in and tells him to inhale like he’s drowning.

minhyun gasps. thankfully doesn’t sputter.

“that wasn’t so bad was it?” seongwoo says with a grin of a man victorious.

of course it wasn’t. opposite of that, quite frankly.

“can’t tell,” minhyun says instead because this is the rehearsed routine, “since when was one hit enough for you to get high?”

a challenge. seongwoo takes it as such. minhyun can tell by the curl of his lips, the amusement in his eyes, and the way his fingers are still pliant against minhyun’s cheeks. and this, alone, is more than enough to set his nerve endings ablaze.

regrets are for those sober enough to consider the consequence. so when the ember dies from a second light, minhyun’s fingers become tangled in seongwoo’s hair as he meets seongwoo in the middle.

and again.

and again.

and again.

he’s swallowing fire — relishing in the burn as smoke makes its way down his throat — and takes hit after hit as seongwoo introduces it to him with an open mouth. minhyun swallows it whole. and it’s not enough. it’s never enough. even with the haze and the way tension seeps out shoulders… it’ll never be enough. minhyun’s fingers slip under the fabric of seongwoo’s shirt, tasting the stretch of skin hidden from view, as he leaves a hollow kiss at the base of seongwoo’s throat and feels the reverberation of a chuckle.

“eager aren’t we?” says seongwoo with a gentle shove of shoulders that puts minhyun back in his place before pushing into minhyun with tongue and smoke and—

minhyun chokes like a beginner. the way he hasn’t done in years. silence replaced by hacking, by lungs threatening to leave after all this abuse, by a body desperate for oxygen. and for a while minhyun is so preoccupied that he doesn’t notice the hand that runs down his back in soothing strokes, the knit of brows, the look of concern.

when minhyun comes to, he wishes he remained oblivious: tries not to read into it when seongwoo dabs away the tears that have formed in the corner of minhyun’s eyes away with his own hands. tries not to think too much of it when seongwoo hands him a bottle to wash it down. why linger on something you cannot have? hope paves way for disappointment. minhyun decides to spend his time mulling over how much this amber liquor cost instead. another one of his father’s prized collection? something relatively cheap to get the job done?

minhyun chugs as much as he can in one breath while maintaining eye contact with seongwoo. the laugh of elation that falls from seongwoo’s lips justifies the burn. minhyun’s lips pop off the bottle, wiping away the droplets with the back of his hand.

seongwoo takes the bottle from minhyun and downs the rest before he climbs back onto minhyun’s lap as he dangles the glass pipe between fingers. there’s still a little bit left. still a small patch that had managed to escape becoming ashes.

“shall we finish?” minhyun says, licking his lips.

“thought you would never ask.”

it’s a terrible decision but minhyun can blame it on everyone else and pardon himself when the last vestiges of smoke are swallowed down and whatever this was meant to be dips into sloppy kisses.

minhyun knows his fingers are tugging a bit too harshly on seongwoo’s hair. but letting go might mean the end to a dream so his fingers tighten their hold. another curl of desire ignites at the sound that falls from seongwoo’s mouth. it worsens when seongwoo’s fingers dip past minhyun’s waistband. even worse when he pulls back a little, eyes sparkling and lips swollen, before falling forward so that his breath tickles the shell of minhyun’s ear as he laughs.

“you know…” seongwoo begins as his fingers fumble with minhyun’s pants, “they say sex feels better when you are high.” minhyun doesn’t have to see seongwoo’s face to know that he’s wetting his lips. “can i get you off, minhyunnie?” seongwoo asks as if he doesn’t have a hand wrapped around minhyun’s dick. minhyun hates the way seongwoo says his name, saccharine sweet, a reminder of how much has been tainted since the first time seongwoo had used a term of endearment when they were six. back then things were simpler. back then minhyun didn’t know that word named love.

and as much as minhyun hates the reminders, he hates himself more. despises the one that opens his mouth and says: “only if you do, too.”

seongwoo’s grin probably has become cheshire. minhyun doesn’t want a confirmation. he just wants to forget. just wants to play pretend. that the seongwoo who eagerly undoes his own pants does it out of unadulterated affection and not out of the eagerness to experiment. that the seongwoo who releases minhyun’s cock from his boxers will rock him into the morning and hold his hand from here on out — not leave him high and dry. that the seongwoo that presses kisses into the side of his cheek does it as a promise to stay and not because it’s just a habit he picked up from some other individual he’s slept with.

minhyun just wants to forget.

“do you think it’s true?” seongwoo says as he gives minhyun a tentative squeeze. “that we become more sensitive when we are high?” his thumb dips into minhyun’s slit, collecting precome, spreading it over the head of minhyun’s cock. minhyun is far past the point of caring what noises slip past his lips. knowing that the heat from this and the ingested alcohol has left his skin red to where embarrassment can no longer dye it. how is seongwoo still coherent? “don’t you want to try it out?” minhyun cants his hips as seongwoo presses their cocks against each other and moans into his ear. “how it feels like,” seongwoo says as minhyun uses one hand to keep him from falling and the other to hold them together to enact revenge, “to have heat engulf you?” minhyun butchers seongwoo’s name as he imagines seongwoo riding him. imagines what it is like to be swallowed by all that heat. a contrast to the reality that doesn’t give him enough and minhyun chases it by grinding against seongwoo. seongwoo answers with a particularly harsh tug, a flick of the wrist that renders minhyun speechless. “or…” voice dangerously deep and minhyun doesn’t need to look to know that those eyes are dark, “being stretched out and filled to the brim as i grind against your prostate?"

it’s all minhyun needed for a picture to be painted in his head: of seongwoo fucking into him like he’s found one last place to carve out for himself. minhyun hates how much he wants it. hates how he shows it by pressing against seongwoo’s hand, against seongwoo’s cock. and seongwoo tugs like he’s trying to draw something out of minhyun. a confession maybe.

but minhyun won’t give it to him.

so all he’s left with is a hand full of come, staining skin.

minhyun rides the last of his orgasm as seongwoo drives himself to completion, teeth sinking into minhyun’s skin. a reminder ; tender.

the way seongwoo sounds his name, when all things are said and done, almost makes the ache worth it. it sounds perfect — the way it rolls off seongwoo’s tongue. minhyun wishes it could belong.

“thanks,” is all seongwoo says as he begins to extract himself from minhyun. not before he brushes minhyun’s fringe to the side, lips pressing gently against minhyun’s forehead.

it ends as quickly as it begins: the loss of heat the only issue on minhyun’s mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i was hunting for quotes to use as titles when i stumbled across this [one](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/6613238-falling-for-someone-is-like-pulling-a-loose-thread-it). appropriate, but i couldn't resist using my favorite [richard siken poem](http://youngerpoets.yupnet.org/2008/04/22/scheherazade-crush-by-richard-siken/).
> 
> blame minhyun's teaser. that's literally the opening scene. it is how i got cursed with this idea in the first place.
> 
> so at 17 they had the 1964 glenlivet ( winchester collection; 50 year single malt scotch whiskey ) that is priced at almost $30,000. how does anyone have this much money to burn on alcohol.
> 
> according from all the research i've done: smoke before you drink. never do things the other way around folks. also it is usually paired with beer but well... why settle for the cheap stuff?


End file.
